Black Lily
by luckycharms92
Summary: Sherlock has finally met his match, and of course she is a woman. However, she lives in America and not once have their paths crossed, until now. Though, Cecile only came to London for a vacation, but it turns out to be everything but a vacation.
1. Chapter 1

She could see everything, but at the same time see nothing. She could hear everything, even if most of it was pointless droning. She could feel everything, from the chill penetrating the glass window to the anger from the father being accused of murdering his own child. However, nothing could distract her as those bright yellow orbs of hers swept over the room where the heinous act took place.

"Well, Cecile, anything?" asked Detective Morrison with his brows furrowed slightly. He took a step back when Cecile shot him a scowl. "When I have something to tell you, I will. If you interrupt me once more Detective, I will have to ask you to leave."

Detective Morrison stared at her, his mouth open slightly in shock; however, he didn't say anything as he simply stood back and let her walk around the room in silence.

The body had been removed and taken to the coroner, but the blood was still there.

Cecile looked past the blood so as to keep her emotions at bay, but she could already imagine the body of a small child simply lying there with fear and pain etched deeply onto its face. How any human being could possibly harm a child was beyond her, though she did her best not to focus on it since it was a distraction. Quickly, she pushed those thoughts out of her head and focused on the room.

"It is a Monday; where is your nanny?" Cecile asked.

"I-I don't know; she never showed up," the father said.

"Hmm, interesting. Well, Mr. Martins, I hope you found the subway to your liking," Cecile sighed, sharply turning on her heel to face him. Narrowing her eyes on him, she cut off his stammering and continued. "Your car hasn't moved since you came home last night and don't tell me you took a cab."

"You can't possibly know he took the subway," an officer muttered, but she brushed him off.

Without looking at him, she explained quickly. "The ticket stub is sticking out of his pant pocket. If you looked closely, you would have seen it as well, you moron." Her eyes were still on Mr. Martins, who swallowed rather hard-his Adams apple bobbing as he picked at his nails nervously. "You have a nervous tick, something the matter, Mr. Martins? Is there something you would like to confess to or do you want me to continue? I mean, this is possibly the simplest case I have worked on, I can recount the entire tale to you, but that would be boring since you already know what happened. Please be kind and just confess."

"I don't know what you are getting at," the father snapped, standing up suddenly. Cecile didn't move back, coolly saying, "You know precisely what I'm getting at; drop the act, Mr. Martins."

He raised his voice, moving toward her as if to scare her back, but she simply stood her ground and waved off the detective from coming to her defense. "How dare you! How dare you, you bitch! I would never hurt Christopher!"

"You said Christopher."

"Of course I did, that was his name," he growled.

"You said his name instead of saying 'my son.'"

"So?"

Cecile raised an eyebrow at him. "You are supposedly grieving over him, why call him by his first name? Why not 'my son' unless you distance yourself from him because he isn't your son yet your wife left you with him? How do I know he wasn't your son? Well, from the pictures in the frames that are now covered in his blood, anyone can see that he has not inherited a single physical feature from you. A simple DNA testing will prove me to be right, and give you another plausible reason to want to hurt Christopher."

"I never meant to hurt him," the father suddenly said hoarsely as Detective Morrison came up behind him with handcuffs in one hand.

"You were tired of taking care of a child that wasn't yours. The look in your eyes tells me you had gotten very drunk last night and was suffering from a hangover this morning; your rage got the best of you. You have no alibi, you have many reasons to want to harm your son-you did it. End of story."

Swiftly, she began to head towards the door, saying, "Don't stare, it's rude." It wasn't possible not to stare at the petite woman with the yellow eyes in awe, shock, and fear. How she was able to discern everything with simple glances around the room. "Oh, check the basement."

"Why?" Detective Morrison asked.

"Because you'll find the nanny's dead body down there. He most likely killed her the moment she walked into the living room and discovered Christopher's body," she sighed. With that, she left without another word- the cool air of Boston washing over her as she walked down the sidewalk in a sad silence.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before night fell over Boston and Cecile was involved in another case. Though, the one she solved that morning wasn't something the Detective had called her in for. It was just by chance that she was walking along and happened upon the scene, offering her services to get it over and done with quickly.<p>

Cecile sat back in a leather chair that had once belonged to her father, who was a legend among detectives for his great work on the task force. It was going to be a long night and the chair often gave her an unexplainable surge of energy. Yet, she always felt like such a child when she sat in the chair of a great man; she was hardly great as him or ever would be as great as him. No one would be as great as her father had once been…

"Oh good, you're home!" Amanda chirped, walking into Cecile's study without as much as a knock. "Pack your bags, Cece, we're going on vacation tomorrow to London!"

"What do you mean we are going to London? I do not need a vacation Amanda," Cecile muttered as she opened up the manila folder on her table. She pulled out the pictures and spread them across the large desk, half-listening to her roommate go on about how Cecile deserved a vacation even if the term was not in her dictionary. "Amanda, shut up. You are giving me a headache."

Amanda walked over to Cecile, raising her hand to whack her best friend on the back of the head. "Ow! Have you gone mad?" Cecile snapped, rubbing the back of her head.

"No, you have," the blonde replied airily. "We're going, even if I have to drag you onto the plane myself."

"I will be kicking and screaming."

"I know, and I don't care."

"You should; you are the one that will be hurt in this situation."

"If you don't go, I'll call up Morrison and tell him that I'll be out of town and you'll be _all alone _for two whole weeks."

This got Cecile's attention. She frowned at the blonde with the devilish smirk on her perfect milky peach face. "You wouldn't dare." Narrowing her eyes on Amanda's, she tried to see if this was a bluff. However, there wasn't a single hint of lie within in those green eyes. Of course, Cecile knew about the detective's emotions for her and she often used it to her advantage when she needed something that she normally wouldn't have access to, but she could never reciprocate those feelings.

If the detective knew she was going to be absolutely alone, there would be many awkward conversations and moments of him trying to ask her out on a date, which Cecile wanted to avoid as much as possible. With a sigh, he shot her friend a glare before simply nodding her head in agreement without saying another word to her for the rest of the night. If she could, she would solve this next case before their early flight in the morning so as not to keep the police hanging.

Amanda and Cecile were childhood friends. Neither could remember a moment in time where they weren't friends. It was odd that they stuck together for as long as they have even though Amanda was more of the social butterfly while Cecile was perfectly content on being in solitude. When one really thinks about it, Amanda was Cecile's only connection to the outside world, not that she ever really used that connection to learn about the world. Cecile only cared about one thing and that was putting the bad guys behind bars. Nothing else mattered, if anything, all else was simply trivial in her mind.

Who cared about the royal wedding? Why does it matter if a celebrity wore something that the general brainless mass believed to be ugly? Should it really matter if two people ended up wearing the same type of dress _months_ apart?

The answer, according to Amanda, would be yes. The answer, according to Cecile, would be no. Of course, Cecile believed she was right, so she rarely ever listened to Amanda's brainless chatter about the silly side of the world. The mass of morons could deal with the meaningless things while she handled what really mattered.

* * *

><p>"How interesting," John Watson muttered as he read over a blog he had been following for the past couple months simply to irritate his flat mate, Sherlock Holmes.<p>

In the kitchen was the famous and brilliant man in all of England, Sherlock Holmes. The tall man with curly dark hair and mesmerizing eyes was conducting another one of his experiments in the kitchen, not paying much attention to Watson. Though, he would hear about it soon enough since Watson always loved to bring up the girl that could possibly be even more brilliant than Sherlock, which was a huge hit to the brilliant man's ego.

"Cecile Clearwater," Watson chuckled softly under his breath as he continued to the read the blog. She was simply twenty-two but has already solved forty nine cases, counting the one she managed to solve just as she was boarding the plane to London. Her chatty friend, Amanda Hewitt, quickly typed up the blog before the plane took off. It seemed as if the friend enjoyed blogging about the young genius, even though it irritated Sherlock quite a bit.

"What about that little genius?" Sherlock asked, suddenly in the room and right behind Watson's chair. With a grin, Watson shrugged. "She's on her way here for vacation, or to steal your spotlight."

Sherlock read over the blog post, not responding to his flat mate's comment until he was done reading. "You know, I do believe a proper welcome is in order for the new arrival," he said, moving swiftly to grab his coat before making his way to the door. Watson quickly got up to follow Sherlock, saying, "You don't even know what flight she is-what am I saying, of course you know. But her flight hasn't even landed yet."

"Well I have to stop by and tell Lestrade that I solved that case that was on the telly this morning," he muttered with a small grin. "Mrs. Hudson, we will have some company with us when we come back. Please have some hot tea and biscuits ready."

"Sherlock, I am not your housekeeper," Watson heard her say just as they walked on out to hail down a taxi.

"Hold on, we're bringing them back here?" Watson asked, getting in after the insane detective.

With a grin, Sherlock said, "Well of course, I must see how this girl is really like. Silly little blogs don't really give me much insight."

"You don't call them silly when I talk about them."

"Of course I do, I just don't feel like telling you anymore."

And he was in the taxi, Watson right beside him.


	2. Chapter 2

The plane ride was too long, unfortunately. Well, it was only seven hours, but that was too long for Cecile. Being cooped up in a seat not doing anything except observe the people around her, it was like a mini hell. Sure, it was fun observing everyone and figuring out what they were like and why they were flying to England, but she could be using this time to at least begin solving another case.

Solving crimes, putting bad guys away, and making sure they stayed away-it was the only thing that kept her alive apart from breathing.

Cecile made a face when she could hear Amanda snoring, meaning she had no one to chatter with mindlessly. Shifting in her seat, Cecile tried to drift off into a blissful slumber as well, but being surrounded by people she didn't know kept her wide awake. From what she had observed thus far, the couple in the row in front of her was cheating on their own spouses, which was precisely why she was determined to never marry. The man in the middle seat in the row behind her was a drug addict, who must be visiting family for some occasion. Though, Cecile was sure that his family was bringing him home for an intervention. The man sitting by the window in the same row has already been pick-pocketed by the druggie, making Cecile more watchful of her own items if she were to ever get up and go to the bathroom.

Now, not everyone on the plane was some kind of terrible low life, some seemed decent from what she had noticed so far. For example, the doctor in the middle aisle flanked by large women was flying home from a convention. From the state of his wedding band, he was happily married with at least two children. The Snoopy tie gave away the fact that he had children. Of course, he was wearing it to please them when they came to retrieve him from the airport.

Too bad Amanda wasn't awake for Cecile to tell her everything that was going through her mind. Very unfortunate indeed since Amanda would be typing all of this up in her blog just for fun's sake, even though Cecile never understood why she blogged everyday about something either Cecile or she did. Mainly, it was what Cecile had done that day whether it was solving who had stole their morning paper to who had killed the senator's son. Surprisingly, many people enjoyed the blog since it was much like reading short murder/mystery stories, but the fact they were real life murder/mysteries made it more fun.

"Cece, shut up," Amanda groaned, moving that so she was now leaning against the uncomfortable girl. Her best friend was still fast asleep, meaning she was sleep talking, which was amusing to say the least. "Cece, please stop. I'm not in the mood." A very visible blush spread across her cheeks, knowing that if anyone decided to listen in, they would get the wrong picture.

"Oi, Amanda, wake up," Cecile hissed, nudging the sleeping moron in the side. "Amanda, come on. You're talking in your sleep again." Her friend simply moaned, "It's sleep time. Tomorrow, I promise."

"Oh dear god," Cecile muttered under her breath, turning her face out the window so as not to see if anyone was staring at her. With a slight shake of her head, she watched as the sky darkened, meaning they were close to the end of their flight. Hopefully.

Cecile wasn't sure how much more of this she would be able to endure. She hated planes. Absolutely hated them, but on some level this was better than having a certain man hit on her without any avail. Going to London with Amanda was going to be hell, but if she had stayed back in Boston alone, that would have been another kind of hell. This entire thing was a lose-lose situation. Fantastic.

After about another half hour of mindless pondering, a flight attendant announced over the intercom that they have begun descending, meaning everyone needed to fasten their seatbelts, put away electronic devices, and sit up straight.

"Amanda, for the love of god, wake-up," Cecile grumbled, turning to shake her friend awake. She ducked just in time since Amanda normally hit whatever was waking her. Apart from the small hits on the back of her head, Cecile came out of the situation unscathed. "Morning, sunshine. Don't you look lovely?" she grumbled.

Amanda stared at Cecile, looking like a lost puppy.

"Only you could pull looking so innocent and angelic-like after a nap," Cecile sighed with a shake of her head.

Smiling rather quickly, Amanda shrugged. "I'm just always a cutie pie."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that," she replied with a laugh. "Now fasten your seatbelt and put your seat up. We're going to be landing soon."

* * *

><p>With a sigh, Watson asked, "Do you really think they will follow two strange men back to their flat?"<p>

"I can't speak for her friend, but Cecile will," Sherlock answered, hailing down a cab once they were outside. He grinned slightly, knowing what his companion was going to say next. "Though, if Cecile joins us, her friend will too so as to keep an eye out for her much like you do for me."

"How do you know for certain that she will join us?" he asked.

"Because I would." Sherlock's grin widened as he got into a cab. "Now come on, we haven't got all day. Her plane will land soon."

* * *

><p>While everyone else got up quickly, thinking that it wouldn't be long before they would be able to get off the plane, Cecile stay seated even with Amanda badgering her to get up. She simply sat there knowing that it would be at least fifteen to twenty minutes until they were able to get out, so why not just stay seated and wait until it was all cleared out? Why hurry? What was the rush?<p>

No one here was going to some business meeting or anywhere of importance, so what was the rush?

Cecile shrugged, losing interest in the topic. "What are you thinking about?" Amanda asked, sitting back down since she couldn't leave without Cecile.

"Hmm, nothing of importance," she sighed. "Hey, trade seats with me."

"What? Why?" Amanda asked in confusion.

"I'll explain later, now trade," she muttered hastily as people began to move. The drug addict was right next to Amanda. It was her only chance to fix a wrong. Still confused, Amanda moved with some difficulty so that Cecile could take her seat. Once she was in the aisle seat, Cecile watched the drug addict out of the corner of her eyes.

People began moving forward again, a few steps. Cecile quickly got up, moving as if to go into the aisle to grab her bag from the overhead bin, but accidently bumped into the drug addict. "Oh my, I'm incredibly sorry sir. I'm so clumsy sometimes," Cecile exclaimed rather girlishly. "I'm really sorry, are you alright?"

The drug addict, who was tall, lanky and sickly looking simply shook his head. "Nah, it's fine miss," he replied, his voice heavily accented. "Don't worry 'bout it." He winked at her, obviously going to try to make a move on her as she went back to her seat. However, she bent over and picked up a wallet, a silver watch, and a pearl necklace from the carpeted floor. Turning to the well dressed gentleman behind him, she held up the wallet and watch to him. "I'm sorry, I believe you dropped these," she said to the rather surprised man. Slowly he took his things, thanking her in confusion. Meanwhile, the drug addicts' smile suddenly vanished as he figured out that she had just pick-pocketed him, stealing back the things he had stolen from others. "And these must be yours, ma'am," she said, handing the pearl necklace to Amanda. "Hold onto it please, I spent a lot of money to get it for your birthday."

Amanda stared at her in amazement, laughing as she took the necklace back. "Only you, Cecile, only you," she murmured, smiling.

* * *

><p>It was cold and dark outside. The street was rather empty and almost everyone was asleep or pretending not to be home as a woman dragged herself with very little help from her legs, begging for someone to help her. No one paid attention to her desperate pleas in fear of getting hurt themselves; all curtains were tight drawn shut and doors chained so as to keep unwanted visitors out.<p>

However, the woman in pain was soon put out of her misery as a man in black came up from behind. Without hesitation, he jammed the gun into the back of her head and pulled the trigger, a single shot echoed through the narrow street lined by shabby apartments, however the man was gone before anyone safely hidden away in their apartment could call the police. Though, it wouldn't take long for them to arrive and for someone to call in the brilliant consulting detective to help with the investigation.


	3. Chapter 3

The airport was bustling with life as people ran from place to place either claiming their baggage or hurrying off to a terminal to catch a flight. However, it was the people running towards their loved ones, hugging and smiling that caught Cecile's attention. The scene made a ghost of a smile flit across her lips, but she didn't dare to dwell on it since she could see past the love to the ugly truths that hid underneath.

"Awe, Cecile, look," Amanda giggled rather childishly, nodding her head at a couple that were greeting each other with eager kisses.

Cecile already noticed them, but tried not to focus on them as they walked past them. "Won't last," she sighed, knowing that she ruined the mood.

"Why do you have to go on and say things like that?" Amanda asked, frowning.

"Because it won't," Cecile sighed. "Look, they are over compensating with all the kisses, which does not always mean they have missed each other terribly. It's not puppy love since they have been together for over a year now, and she has only been away for a week at the most. Now see, he has brought her flowers and a small gift. If it is jewelry, than that means he cheated on her while she was away."

Amanda watched the man hand the girl a small box, curious as it what was inside. "And if it isn't?"

"If it is chocolate, he has still done something wrong, but much more minor than adultery."

It was a pair of diamond earrings.

"Fake, cheap," Cecile muttered under her breath. "Just like their relationship. You wonder why I don't care much about finding a boyfriend."

"Detective Morrison is a good guy," Amanda defended, searching for their luggage on the carousal, "he would never cheat on you."

"We have nothing in common. I'm just his booty call." Cecile moved forward and pulled one of Amanda's many suitcases off with a grunt. "You always bring your entire closet wherever we go," she grumbled, grabbing another one. "It's absolutely ridiculous."

Her best friend didn't say anything as she helped pull their suitcases off as it came around. In total, there were four large suitcases. Three of them belonged to Amanda since she could never make up her mind on what was important to bring. "Well, you never know what may happen and I want to be prepared for every occasion," she said defensively, pouting as usual. Cecile simply rolled her eyes. "Yes, you never know when we will be invited to some grand ball, forcing us to find last minute evening gowns," she muttered, "but thankfully, you have that covered."

"Grumble all you want, but I'll be the one saying 'I told you so' when Prince Harry invites me to some fabulous party at the palace, yet you can't come because you didn't pack anything remotely suitable to wear." Amanda grinned, heading towards the exit with a bag slung over her shoulder and a suitcase in either hand.

"What's it like in that silly little mind of yours?" Cecile chuckled, following her friend on out to catch a cab to the hotel. However, as they walked out of the airport, Cecile tilted her head to listen in on a conversation between two workers.

They were talking quietly, loud enough only for each other to hear, but Cecile quickly tuned out the rest of the world just to listen to them.

"Like Christmas with rainbows and unicorns everywhere," Amanda said, but her voice faded out into background noise. Cecile ventured a step closer to them, knowing they were deep in their conversation to really notice her at first. "A murder? Bloody hell, that's the fifth one in two weeks," the shorter man sighed, shaking his head.

"My brother's on the force, he's been keeping up to date and telling me to keep my wife and daughter locked indoors at night," the other replied, his eyes shifting nervously about. "Only women have been murdered, but they haven't got a clue as to what is going on."

They continued to discuss how unbelievable it all was, irritating Cecile quite a bit. She wanted to know the location of the murders, not how ridiculous it was. She was about to tune out and return to Amanda's side when one of them muttered a vague location. There were street names, but nothing familiar to Cecile, which reminded her to get a map of England and memorize it for future reasons.

The cabbie helped put their suitcases away into the cab as they climbed on in, but before Amanda could say the name of the hotel, Cecile quickly told him the street names she overheard from the two men. "Do you know where that is?"

"Of course I do, Miss," the driver replied as Amanda sent her a dumbfounded look. Cecile simply smiled at her friend before glancing out the window. "You'll see," she sighed cryptically, making Amanda groan internally.

* * *

><p>Sherlock stared out of the cab window, deep in thought as his cell phone began ringing for the third time that night. They were no longer heading for the airport, much to his annoyance, but instead toward a crime scene on Lestrade's pleas for help. Even though going to a crime would be quite exciting, it interrupted his plans to meet the supposed American genius at the airport to surprise her.<p>

However, with a small grin, he knew there were other ways to meet her.

"You're mad that someone died tonight, aren't you? You are actually irritated that you weren't able to meet her, aren't you?" Watson shook his head disbelievingly at the 'brilliant' man seated beside him. He raised a brow at him as Sherlock muttered, "What are you thinking? A murder just made our night much more fun."

"Then you're not disappointed that you won't get to meet the _other_ consulting detective in the world? The girl who has stolen cases in America away from you?"

"The night is still young, John." Sherlock quirked a half-smile at Watson, who was wearing a quizzical look on his face.

The cabbie slowed to a stop right before the scene that was roped off with police tape and cars. The small street crowded by flats that was usually quiet, allowing everyone to sleep, was now filled with activity with everyone up and hiding so as to avoid being involved. Many of them were being questioned on if they knew the person or heard anything, but weren't of much help. Sherlock got out of the cab, heading right for the scene while Watson paid the driver before running after him.

* * *

><p>"Cecile," Amanda began, but stopped herself and just looked out the window. A few moments of silnce passed between the two girls before Amanda continued. "We're not going to the hotel, are we?" Cecile raised a brow at her without saying anything, as if that should be enough to tell her what was going on. "But we're on vacation." Amanda pouted, making the female mastermind roll her eyes at her.<p>

"Sorry, Miss, this place is roped off," the cabbie began, but stopped when Cecile practically jumped out of the cab. Amanda told the driver to stay there before jumping out and running after her friend. "Cecile!" she hissed, reaching out and grabbing her friend by her arm. "What are you doing? Have you lost your mind? This is a crime scene!"

Cecile wrenched herself out of her friend's grasp, but didn't move at first. Instead, she turned to Amanda with a raised brow. "So what?"

"This isn't Boston," Amanda said, trying to reason with her crime obsessed friend. "You can't just go walking into a crime scene here. Plus, we're on vacation."

"This is going to be a boring vacation," Cecile sighed; she looked back at the scene bustling with people, most likely crowded around the dead body, tampering with crucial evidence. Amanda once again was after her friend, trying to stop her but Cecile evaded all her attempts. The only obstacle that truly stopped her was one of the police, telling her that she needed to step back and be on her way.

Meanwhile, Watson glanced over to see what the commotion was only to end up gawking at the woman trying to get past the police officer. He stared at the woman, not moving at first. After a few moments of staring at her, he finally headed towards her to make sure she was actually there and it wasn't some figment of his imagination. "Um, excuse me miss, are you Cecile Clearwater from Boston?"

The police officer she had been arguing with frowned in confusion, wondering if that mattered. Was she some kind of celebrity?

"That depends; who might you be?" she asked, trapping his eyes with those bright yellow orbs.

"You tell me," Sherlock interrupted before John could even utter a syllable. Suddenly, Cecile turned her attention to the man that was clearly taller than her. She cocked her head to the side as she looked him over before turning back to the Watson.

"You two are friends-"

"Colleagues," Watson muttered automatically, glancing at Sherlock.

Cecile raised a brow at him, glimpsing in-between them before quirking a smirk. "I see. The term friend is too formal for you because you have a hard time trusting people. Interesting," said Cecile, nodding her head slightly. "Alright, not friends, but you two do live together, but not in the romantic sense. Not that there is anything wrong with that."

"We're not together," Watson assured her.

Sherlock let out a sigh. "You bore me," he said directly at Cecile, "you are taking too long to figure us out. I told you John, she isn't a genius."

Suddenly Amanda stepped forward, scowl on her face. "Take that back! Cecile is the smartest person you will ever meet. The only reason she is holding back is because _you _are too boring for her."

"Sherlock," someone called out from behind before Cecile could say something to calm her friend down. "I gave you five minutes, what do you have to say?"

"Alright, if I am too easy for you, Miss Cecile, why don't you join me and tell Lestrade what happened and who the woman is," Sherlock muttered, raising the police tape to let her in. Without waiting a second, Cecile stepped forward before Amanda could stop her.

Just as she was about to get closer to the body a woman stepped in her way, forcing her to stop and shoot her an irritated look. "Who are you?" the dark haired woman asked, frowning at her.

"Cecile," she replied, trying to sidestep her, but the woman was too quick for her.

"What are you doing here?" Cecile made a face at the woman, wishing people would stop being so stupid. Shouldn't it be obvious why she was there? Why was she keeping her from looking at the crime scene? Why were they touching the body?

Without much thought, Cecile shouted, "Hey! Don't touch the body! You are tampering with crucial details."

"Lestrade, keep Anderson away from the body," Sherlock said, arriving at Cecile's side. He looked at the female police officer, saying, "She is with me."

"With you? A woman with you, freak?" the woman asked.

"I don't have time for this," Cecile muttered, striding past as Sherlock distracted her. She walked right over the body, kneeling beside it as Lestrade stepped forward, but just as he was about to ask 'what in god's name was going on,' Sherlock shoot him a look that shut him and everyone else up rather nicely.

Sherlock stood a few feet away, observing her quietly, but Cecile let the world melt away as she looked over the body. It was easier to act as if nothing else was around her as she went about her investigation.

The woman was tall, but unhealthily skinny-a few weeks in captivity. Her hair was long and blonde, but rather than in a mess it was brushed and neat-taken care of to an extent. Her arms were folded over her chest and her clothes were neat and clean, not dirty like they should have been-a compulsion or a fantasy? Cecile expected her eyes to be wide open, but instead they were closed shut-killer's doing.

Standing back up, Cecile continued to ignore everyone around as she began looking at the buildings around her. "No one confessing they heard anything?" Cecile asked herself aloud. "Why would they? Bad things always happen here and they do their best to go on living by not interfering in such happenings. You won't hear a peep out of any of them no matter how many times you knock on their doors." At this point, she wasn't talking to anyone directly; she was muttering more to herself out of habit. However, she finally pulled herself out of her little world, demanding, "I want to see the other bodies and the crime scene photos."

Having kept his silence for that long, Lestrade finally spoke up, asking, "Who are you?"

"Your only hope to solve this case," Cecile answered swiftly.


End file.
